(I run my own cleaning firm. My cleaner and I are in a client’s house performing his regular clean. The client is not present. My cleaner accidentally breaks a Greek souvenir espresso cup which holds a spoon. Our policy on breakage is that we will replace any items broken. We are also fully insured. I text my client explaining the situation, and I apologise and offer to replace the item. Meanwhile, my cleaner is panicking.)

Me: “Hi, [Client]. I’m afraid that [Cleaner] had a little accident with one your Greek souvenir cups. If you can look up a replacement for it, we will pay for it to be replaced. We apologise for the accident.”

Client: “It’s really not a problem.”

Me: “Are you sure?”

Client: “Yeah, I hate that thing!”

(My cleaner had never looked so relieved in her life! Bless her!)

A few years ago my work decided to run a Secret Santa. We each picked a name from the hat and went away to make our purchases. Due to the nature of the job, many people weren’t around for much of December leading into the New Year, and there was no time when we were ALL available to exchange gifts, so it was decided we would do it in January when we were all back from holidays or work trips. The gifts were all handed to the General Manager for safekeeping until the day of the exchange, and away we went.

Skip forward to January. The manager, looking somewhat embarrassed and a little annoyed, informed us that she had been keeping the gifts on the desk of the CEO who was away on business — since she needed her desk to work. But the CEO had returned from his work trip early, while everyone else was away. He saw the gifts, ignored the labels, and assumed they were all for him. So, they were all opened, and there was no way to redistribute them without ruining the “Secret” part of the Secret Santa.

(I am visiting my boyfriend’s house before we visit my family for the Christmas holidays.)

Boyfriend’s Mum: “So, how old are you?”

Me: “23.”

Boyfriend’s Mum: “And how old will you be at your next birthday?”

Boyfriend’s Dad & Sister: “24, probably.”

(I have been helping out on a Brownie holiday and we are on the bus on the way back to our home city. I am sat next to the Brownie leader. A couple of the girls in front of us are pointing out things excitedly and being quite loud and silly.)

Girl #1: “Look, look! There’s a monster cow.”

Me: “Uh-huh, sure.”

Leader: “Yep, that’s a monster all right.”

Girl #2: “Oh, and you could jump from that cliff and fly up like birds.”

Leader: “You think so, huh?”

(We drive past a mountain.)

Girl #1: “That’s Sugar Loaf Mountain!”

Leader: *trying very hard not to laugh* “Sugar loaf, eh? What kind of sugar loaf?”

Girl #2: “The mountain!”

Leader: “Sure. See them all the time, those sugar loaves climbing up their mountains. Go tell [Other Helper] all about the sugar loaves around here. Tell her we’re eating them tonight!”

Girls: “Okay!”

(They get up to go speak to the other helper.)

Leader: “Sugar Loaf Mountain, eh? What are they like?”

Me: “Er, that one was actually real.”

Leader: “What?”

Me: “Sugar Loaf Mountain is a real mountain and we did just pass it. I’ve climbed it before.”

Leader: “Oops. Oh, well. Wonder if [Other Leader] will guess that. What a wonderful name.”

(I volunteer at a heritage Narrow Gauge railway in Wales, with tracks on a 1-foot, 11-inch gauge versus the standard gauge of 4 feet and 8.5 inches.)

American Tourist: “Wow! Your trains are so dinky!”

Me: *laughs* “Thanks!”

American Tourist: “You know, our trains in the US are way bigger than these little things. Oh, and we don’t use steam as much anymore!”

Me: “Oh, well, we don’t here in the UK, either. This is a preserved railway.”

American Tourist: “How do y’all cope long distance?”

Me: “Oh, this isn’t our public transport system; originally this hauled freight.”

American Tourist: *wanders away muttering incredulously to himself* “So dinky… d***…”